The Course of Infection
by Grey-Jack
Summary: This is my fiction idea of the origins of the Infected, hope you enjoy and please review, even if you thought it sucked. Goes from Common Infected, Hunter, Smoker, Boomer, Tank, unknown on Witch.
1. Chapter 1

John Mattson (at first) grudgingly woke from his slumber, before remembering something very important.

Today was Presentation day.

He flung the covers of his bed and walked briskly to the wardrobe, to check his suit was still there. (Why it wouldn't be, I don't know, but he still wanted to look at it.) It was, still crisp and perfectly clean from the dry cleaners. He then gave his teeth a vigorous brush to give them a winning smile and minty fresh breath; then carefully combed his black hair into a sophisticated position. Following that he smoothly slipped into his suit and did his tie several times to make sure it was _absolutely perfect. _His suit on, he gave himself a quick inspection in the mirror before heading downstairs: giving his loving wife a quick peck on the chick, saying goodbye to his kids and having a quick bite of toast.

He climbed smoothly into his black XF Jaguar, it was a good car and had been faithful to him, but if this went well he would certainly get a new one, but he still hadn't decided whether he would get rid of his loyal old Jag, as he pulled out the drive.

John and his family lived on the outskirts of town, but if this went well he would be able to afford a mansion in the country, somewhere nice, he thought to himself, as he drove in through the city gates. He went through the presentation again and again in his head, to make sure it was _absolutely perfect_; it was, unlike the traffic.

"No, no, no, no, no, no!" John moaned, slamming his head on the steering wheel, the traffic had just ruined his life. Yup, definitely, presentation down the drain, back to crummy normal job. Unless...

He got out his car, rolled up his sleeves, and went to deal with the problem head on, he began to stride purposefully down the pavement before noticing one of the Cities vagrants in an alley way, Jesus, he looked and smelt (from all the way over here) that he hadn't washed in a month. Ignoring him, he continued along the pavement to the problem, someone had broken down. For what it was worth, he knocked on the window.

"Need a push?" He offered. The man inside was nervous and embarrassed knowing he was holding up half the city, and gratefully accepted. He gunned the engine whilst John pushed, and surprisingly enough got going, plus, John suit was still fine, surely that was a win win, right?

He started a jog back to the Jag but the vagrant was now blocking his path, "Hey Buddy, the sidewaaaaaaaaaargh!" He yelled, as the vagrant lurched forward and sunk his dirty, broken teeth into his arm, he tried to shake him off before the bellow of a policeman rang out and got there first, beating off the tramp with a pair of skilful blows and without evening questioning him, pepper sprayed him. The tramp seemed unaffected and lurched forward again, but the policeman sprung to the side and kicked the back of his leg, sending him down, and cuffed him there, Better get something on that, mate." He said, gesturing to John's arm.

He was right, it did look nasty, it was bleeding badly and the tramps teeth hadn't helped, but odder still, the wound clotted almost immediately, frowning, Matt got back in his car and drove to the presentation, for now _he_ was holding up traffic, and onlookers.

Eventually he drew up outside the building a hurried in through the revolving doors, he straightened up and told the secretary why he was here, before taking the lift to floor 29, hoping he wasn't too late.

When the doors opened with a "ping" he sprinted to the room, before stopping outside and walking calmly in. "Sorry I'm late, terrible traffic." He informed his superiors, "Ahh, Mr Mattson, seeing how your late, perhaps you'd like to start with your presentation?" A man in an even better suit, sitting in a comfy looking, Black leather, office spinny chair at the of a long glass table said. Keeping his cool, John simply nodded and begun...

When he had finished, he was told to wait in a small room until the other five men had finished, he hoped it had gone well. Even if he was sweating like a pig, hell, more than a pig. Despite this, he had chills, nasty chills; he could only hope it hadn't shown. That was when he remembered the bite, had the tramp had something wrong with him? He though, as he rolled up his sleeve, and gasped in horror as the bite had turned a nasty purplish brown colour. But he hastily rolled it back up as the door handle turned and one of the superior men stepped through.

"Congratulations, Mr Mattson, we look forward to working with you here at M corp." With a business man's smile, he turned and left. It appeared it had gone _absolutely perfect._

If it wasn't for the pain in his joints, he would have punched the air, (Why the hell was their pain in his joints, he was in his mid thirties!)

As he drove home, he thought to himself, this has changed my life.

Sadly, for Mr Mattson, no business presentation, no matter how nig, important or well paying, could change his life now. His fate had been sealed from the moment off his bite.

The drive home hadn't been going well, he was swerving all over the place, and his sweating and chills had got worse and weren't helping at all, he could barely grip the steering wheel as his fingers were going numb, but, at last, he pulled up in the drive. He winced as he got out, his joints were getting worse, why the hell though? He was still young!

He let himself in and make the big announcement though, and his wife promised to cook him his favourite, smoked mackerel risotto. He really wasn't hungry (damn tramp bite) but she had made it _absolutely perfect_, so he forced it down.

He decided and early night and hot shower might help, it really didn't. Halfway through the shower, without warning, he wretched and threw up, he leaned against the shower and slowly watched the vomit flow down the plug hole, and hastily decided on bed. A glance in the mirror showed he looked awful, and felt it, fever, chills, heavy sweating, vomiting, , numb fingers and toes and his joints felt terrible. He staggered to bed, dizzy and sluggish, and hoped the morning would be better.

It wasn't.

He never woke up.

Next morning, John's wife woke to a comparatively gloomy day, he she looked out the window, and it really didn't look like a nice Saturday.

She saw her husband wake and start to stumble towards the door, "Morning". She smiled, the effect was instant, his head turned slowly towards her, and he moaned in what she thought was a yawn.

She was wrong.

He stumbled forward and sunk his teeth into her neck, blood sprayed as she screamed in shock, and John's face pulled back to reveal the necks bloody musculature and pulsating arteries and veins. He stumbled on into his son's room, a sunk his teeth into the young boy's arm, who screamed and tried to escape as he felt the warmth seep down his arm, but was held fast by the zombies teeth.

His daughter walked in and screamed, she turned and ran, she belted outside and scaled the nearest tree and stayed in there for the rest of the day until she fell asleep. Too scared to come down.

When she woke up, she still wouldn't come down , she wanted her family not as zombies, she wanted her friends with her, and her boyfriend.

Oh yes, she remembered her boyfriend's face, and their first date, it had been _absolutely perfect._

Then she decoded, she would go to the city and get to her friends, and escape her deceased family, she got down from the tree and broke into a run, in through the city gates she bumped into a tall man, with a greasy mop of black hair, he was halfway through gagging forcefully when he turned sharp and she screamed.

He was disfigured, he skin covered in ashen grey pumps that pulsated, and a long tongue, with saliva flowing freely from the tip hung loosely in his mouth.

She screamed and turned a corner, but she felt his tongue wrap around her, she pulled against it, she could escape!

But then it wrapped around her leg, she tripped! She fell and was dragged along the floor, she felt her self hoisted up, and the deformed man started dealing cruel blows as well as tightening his tongue, she want to scream, but the slimy appendage gagged her, more zombies came and they too lay cruel beats, and took savage bites that bled freely, she wanted to escape, to escape pain, for someone to help her, but there was no-one, her head felt ready to explode as he choked her, she felt dizzy, she hurt, spots darkened her vision until she blacked out.

She never woke up.


	2. Chapter 2 The Hunter

The free runner stood on top of the building, looking around at the glowing lights of the night city, he stood on the edge and looked down, at the cars and people far below him. He had his favorite, dark blue hoody on, hood up to keep the wind out of his eyes and ears. He had duct tape over his arms and legs for a more streamlined frame.  
When he started free running, he was scared of the edges of tall buildings, the fear of a breeze sweeping him off, but with experience he had learned that with the right stance, only a hurricane could sweep him off.  
He took a deep breath and started to run, he gathered speed quickly, reached the other end of the building and made the first jump.  
Smooth.  
He hit the roof of the next running, and kept a good pace. The next roof followed the same and kept on schedule, even managing a commando role on the next roof jump. It was important to keep timing and pace in free running, no pacing could mean you were tired before the end of the run, and being tired in free running could result in you being splattered on the pavement several stories below.  
On the roof of his apartment he landed with a controlled skid and stood up licking his lips, the run had gone _absolutely perfect_, but free running sure made you hungry and lucky for him there was a convenient store across the road. He hopped onto the fire escape and made his way down to the street, being careful to check the road before he crossed, no point in doing a dangerous sport like fee running if you were going to get knocked down by a car.  
He came out of the store with several sandwiches, some frozen pizzas, oranges, grapes, biscuits and sweets, enough to keep him going for a day or two. He took a sandwich and took a bite, from the taste he guessed chicken, bacon and mayonnaise, as well as this he had crab and prawn, pork and pickle and a tuna and lettuce. Odd combinations, but he was sure they were nice enough.  
He took the stairs to his top floor apartment seeing how the lifts were closed, but outside his door someone was crouched, vomiting badly.  
"Uhh, buddy, I know your sick, but I need to get to my door."  
The person paused, looked up, and with a garbled yell, charged. It sunk its teeth into his arm, he felt the pain but shoved it off easily, the teeth hadn't gone deep, he then kicked it down the stairs and let himself in.  
He checked the clock, 11:48, best time for bed, hopefully it would help his bite.  
It didn't.  
He woke in pain and fell to the floor, yelling, he rolled up his trouser leg to see the muscles and veins in his calf... pulsating, mutating, changing. And it hurt. He looked at his arms it was the same, and his hands. He clutched his stomach, that too, in pain, it hurt to breath, it felt someone was stabbing his lungs with needles, he crawled out the window onto the fire escape, where he writhed and screamed in pain, these were his last conscious moments as human  
When he woke, he began to breath, this time it was ragged and came out as a rasping growl, he lay crouched on the fire escape where he passed out, hours ago, and looked around.  
The city had gone to hell, prey looked scare, until he saw the man running, he sprung with a ferocious scream, and pinned him, ripping at him with new found teeth and claws, he sunk his teeth into the man's neck and blood came out in pulsating spurts, staining his hoody, and he shook the man like a dog with a rat, until he was still and limp before letting go, his head alert. The sounds of gunfire and shouts came, several streets away, with another scream , he leapt onto a building, and was away.


	3. Chapter 3 The Smoker

They said smoking stunting your growth.  
Ha!  
No sir-ee, no growth stunting for Roy Carlson, being the tallest person in his office at almost 7 ft, and being a chain smoker since he was 19. Mind you, he had probably did most of his growing until he was nineteen, but still loved teasing the shorter smokers about their size.  
Today though, he was truly going to become a Smoker. He put a white shirt, green jacket and jeans on and left for the bus, cigarette already in mouth. He stood a few feet away from the other bus waiters as they checked their watches, he may be a chain smoker, but he was respectful of other people's personal space and didn't want them to get second hand smoke.  
Eventually when the bus had taken him to work he got out and ran a hand through his greasy mop of black hair, whilst not that long, it was thing and he rarely washed or combed it, resulting in it being very greasy. Everyone in the office said he would be able to get the girl if he would just wash or comb it, but he was just too lazy.  
He took one last drag before heading up the lift into the offices, and took up his stall, and now to wait out the hour until his smoking break...  
At last! It finally came, he hurried down the lift and took a packet of ciggys and his lighter out, rushed outside the office buildings doors and relieved himself with a long drag. He remembered his best ever smoke, oh yeah, that had been _absolutely perfect_, a friend who worked in Newburg airport had got him what he suspected had been a Cuban cigar, damn that had been good!  
If Roy wasn't so busy fantasizing about Cuban cigars, he might of seen the person sprinting in front of him, terrified, and then the person sprinting towards him, who then sprung and sunk their teeth into his shoulder, Roy swiftly kicked her off and she then took up her previous chase, but the bite hurt.  
Nothing some cigarettes couldn't cure, he hoped.  
However, his fellow office workers were not so sure, "Hey Roy, you should really go home, you look awful." The man in the opposite cubicle said next to him, no matter how many times he insisted he was fine, he did look bad, he had gone a nasty shad of greenish grey.  
He had another few cigarettes whilst waiting for the next bus, and went home. However on his front door, he suddenly clutched his stomach, it felt horrible, he could painfully feel his insides shifting and re assembling themselves. He gasped as he felt his lungs contract and shrink, he began to gag as he felt something force it's way up his throat, and the odd feeling of his tongue numbing didn't help, until he eventually passed out.  
He woke and slowly staggered out into the road, a new organism, covered in ashen grey, pulsating pustules, occasionally a piece of his grey skin would flake off and add to the spore cloud surrounding him. A long, slimy tongue, saliva flowing freely from the black tip, hung limply from his mouth. He began to gag and wheeze as he began breathing again, until a girl suddenly bumped into him, he whipped around, she screamed, and ran.  
He hurriedly staggered up and clambered up some bins to a store roof next to his house, he narrowed his orange eye and fired his tongue it wrapped around her, she resisted but he tripped her and began to drag her back, tightening his tongue all the while, infected gathered round, clawing and biting her, until the warmth left he body and he slacked his grip and she fell limp on the floor.  
Second later army trucks passed him, two, they either didn't see him or ignored him as he passed. He followed, sensing fresh meat...


	4. Chapter 4 The Boomer

Mathew Smith drove carefully through the streets before pulling up outside the warehouse complex, his small piggy eyes checking for pedestrians; before hooking up his car to the Pump n' Run Gas station. Drumming his short, stubby fingers on his car as he waited for it fill up, before going inside the station and paying.  
He then drove his car outside the fast food restaurant.  
Burger Tank, one of his favorite places in Fairfield. The fast food restaurant, he hurried in side and a grin spread across his chubby face as there was no queue, "One Burger Tank Special, please." He said politely to the acne-ridden, squeaky voiced teen at the till in front of him, who mumbled something and went to get his meal.  
He paid, took it of the counter and went to sit down, he had a large "Tank Shell" meal, burger, a large fries, and a large milkshake. No wonder he was so fat. Still, he loved burgers, and hungrily at his meal and finished with a loud burp he tried to muffle. He looked around, cautious before hurrying out the restaurant, glancing a brief glance to the TV, going on about the big "Swine flu" pandemic, _Come on_! He thought, _pig flu? Killing people? Yeah right._  
He may have been right on it not being pig flu, but on not killing people, he didn't know how wrong he was.  
Outside he saw someone being sick... badly, he hoped it wasn't Burger Tank, as he approached.  
"Uhh, buddy, you okay? Do you want a ambulance?" He asked, looked down trying to make eye contact.  
The sound of his voice had an instant reaction, the man's head snapped up, looking him in the eye, through his own, bloody, red ones; vomit and saliva dripping from his raw mouth.  
He charged in an instant and bit Matt on the arm, "Hey!" he yelled, using his weight to shove him off, before hurrying back to his car. He felt terrible, but his problems were worse as the man pounded on the windscreen, madly yelling un-intelligible garble.  
Matt drove home as fast as he could, the bleeding stopped, but it hurt a lot and bruising was showing fast, not to mention he was sweating. (Even more than usual.)  
He didn't feel better when he got home either, he had a glass of water and another burger, but if anything, that made him feel worse.  
He staggered outside, his condition worsening by the second, he felt awful, ill, like he was going to throw up, then he collapsed in ally.

He woke several hours later, his form now bloated horribly, his multiple chins becoming bile filled water balloons stuck to his face Several growths forming out of his belly button and one of his eyes, pulsating as bile and puss flowed through them, he waddled through the now dark, deserted streets, he arrived at Burger tank, his place of infection, along with several shambling zombies. His infectee, John Mattson, the tramp, a scientist who, before infection, had been trying to cure the virus, and several other city slickers.  
And one survivor.  
The zombies ignored him at first, but Matt didn't, he corned him in an alleyway, and threw up violently all over him, covering him and several zombies in thick, slimy bile.  
"Ughh". The survivor moaned as he wiped it out of his eyes; however, the zombies began to perk up now, paying attention to him.  
And in a flash, a horde came, dozens of zombies: swarming, thrashing and screaming. The survivor fired off shots from his pistol into the crowd, taking out several zombies; one threatened to bite before he slammed his flashlight into the bridge of it's nose, sending it into shock spasms.  
Then they were upon him, they dragged him down,. Those who could tore, scratched bite and punched, ripping him apart, whilst the rest formed a thick, writhing ring around him, each jostling for a place to kick the downed survivor.  
But the Boomer was gone, he had smelt fresh prey.


	5. Chapter 5 The Tank

Aaron Derango needed a bigger car.

No doubt about it, the tiny blue Mustang he was driving at the moment was not only ancient, but small. He easily had the money for a new, better car, in fact, he had been eyeing up a nice Lexus for quite a while now, but never actually got round to buying it.

He glanced at the window and- wait, what the hell was that? Did he just see something jump from a rooftop? He couldn't tell, as he sped past; but he suspected something was up, the media had recently started churning out more and more bullshit.

It had started as a swine flu infection as a cover-up, but it when it hit North America full force, no one could deny what it truly was.

He had occasionally seen people being chased; but he merely suspected it was them playing silly beggars or something.

Never mind, he thought, as he pulled up in the Gym's car park.

_Frank's Gym, _it was called, not a very inventive or catchy title, but it was still a very good gym.

He got changed, putting away his casual clothes and bag into his personal locker and headed for the equipment rooms.

A quick glance in the mirror showed his massive body, cannon-ball like biceps, Pecs bigger than his girlfriend's breasts and an enormous, well defined six pack. He had earned it too, not a single drop of steroids or anything muscle enhancing had entered his body.

He started his workout, mostly cardio-vascular and work on Pecs and biceps. To keep him fit and in good shape.

It was late a night and most people had left by now, after about half an hour it was his break. He looked over the large swimming pool that was below the gym, a swim would be nice after a hot work out.

And it was, the swimming pool that had been added two years ago was a great addition, thought Aaron as he got himself a glass of orange juice from the tiny, but well stocked kitchen.

He stepped out, taking a sip and enjoying the ice cold temperature, when he saw someone outside, they stared at him, almost uncertainly, before leaning on the door, opening it. They staggered a few steps, before charging, aiming right for the throat. Unfortunately, they slipped on the tiled floor and the bite was misplaced, right on the jaw. The teeth went right down to the bone as Aaron yelled in pain.

He shoved the freak off and gave him a powerful left hook, followed by a brutal uppercut that sent him sprawling out the down into an alley way.

"And stay out!" he yelled, before wincing and gently touching his chin.

"Jesus" his friend said, inspecting his jaw, "One of the friggin' physco's got you? You really need to get that seen to. Anyway, I'm going, here's the keys so you can lock up when you're done."

Aaron nodded and walked off. He tried to finish his workout but the pain was just too much, so he hit the showers, locked up and left, he would give the keys back to Frank, who he was good friends with, tomorrow.

Well, that's what he thought.

He went for a snack at the nearest cafe, but barely touched his sandwich and only managed a few sips from his coffee. He swirled the spoon in it as it slowly cooled, trying to wonder if the physco had been connected to the news, but his head hurt just too much , he was sweating far too much and felt chills coming on. Had the guy's bite been infected with something?

He staggered out into the alley, gritting his teeth. He couldn't think with all the pain, it was driving him insane. He shoved the few people at the way, some he knew were physco's, for a second it seemed they would attack, before they sensed his condition and went in search of prey. His breath was increasingly laboured now and game in short, gasping growls, growing deeper, more aggressive and more feral with each breath.

His whole body ached now and his whole body felt odd also, it felt as if it was changing, mutating growing.

It hurt.

At last, he finally collapsed, his body only occasionally giving off spasmodic jerks as it transformed, his muscles swelling out, thickening and becoming denser. Becoming a massive wall of organic material his wounded jaw sunk into his body, leaving his tongue hanging loose and he continued changing.

Then he woke up.

He couldn't hold his new weight entirely on his back legs now, so he walked on all fours like a gorilla, heavy thuds resonating through the streets as he pounded the floor. He smelt and heard humans, gun fire, prey.

He saw them as he turned a corner, burning cars, spent ammo and guns, dead bodies and rubble everywhere. He charged and felt the M4 carbine round punch into him, they drew blood, but did little damage.

He threw the normal infected out the way as neared the closet marine, he delivered a powerful punch to his chest and felt bones crunch and collapse inwards, and heard the squish of punctured organs.

He grabbed a squealing normal infected by the legs and swung it like club, it hit a marine and sent the two flying into a wall before the both laid sprawled on the concrete.

The oncoming horde of infected seemed to thin until something big and bloated came out of an alley, they inexperienced soldiers didn't know the "Shove the shoot" method, and were blinded in bile as the horde increased.

The two Miniguns set up presented a serious problem, he flipped a car with ease and heard a satisfying crunch of bone and metal as it crushed the Minigun and it's pilot.

The second Minigun wielder was dealt with in a scream and a flash of grey lighting, and the Hunter dragged it's prey away for Exentation.

The soldiers were thinning out greatly now as the Tank tossed them around like a child's playthings, until the remaining trio backed up. On was dragged off into Asphyxiation by the Smoker, who had followed the convoy and waited silently in the shadows.

His friend aimed down the Carbine's scope to save him, only to receive all the bones into his torso broken in one, mind blowing punch. The last soldier was knocked to the ground and crushed like a bug.

The Tank then reared up and roared, as from that moment, except for a few choice survivors, the City was overrun.


	6. Chapter 6 The Witch

Elaine Toms tottered neatly along the streets of Fairfield, dressed in red high heels, a pink mini-skirt, a clingy blue top and white jacket. A small handbag on one arm, and long blonde hair flowing freely.

She had treated herself tonight, gone shopping, had dinner and had her hair done. It had been an absolutely perfect evening. Well, it was going to be, until she got the text. She had been getting a lot of texts recently, all the "Have you had your Rabies shots recently?" or the "Swine Fly awareness." Texts. All because of this pandemic, she was doing pretty well, she thought, she felt fine, but she knew a lot of people going of sick.

Now back to the text.

It was from her boyfriend, the big type, roughly same age, Captain of the Football team at Uni, broad shoulders, craggy brow, blonde hair, big, muscley, etc.

You know the type.

The text said, "Ur dumped."

For a few seconds she stared at the text, before she rank the number frantically.

"Hey, this is Gareth's answer phone, leave a message, cheers."

"Gareth! How could you dump me? We've been together so long! And by text? How could you, you insensitive prick! One last thing, GARETH, YOU FUCKING BASTARD, I'M PREGNANT!"

She started to cry, her tears running black lines down her face with the mascara, as she staggered down the dark streets. To make matters worse, thunder clapped and rain poured down, soaking her newly done hair, but she didn't bother getting her Umbrella out.

She continued to stagger, sobbing down the rainy alleyways until she saw a group of people, all crouched round...something, whatever it was, but it didn't smell right.

"Hello?" She said, her voice barely a whisper, and it was cracking too. One of the people instantly snapped round, and charged. He wasted no time, and latched onto her arm. She frantically tried to shake him off, hitting him with her handbag, before she stamped her high heel into his feet.

The man yelled in pain and tripped, so she took the opportunity and ran.

She already felt awful...head aches, nausea, sweating, chills, numbness, as she staggered along, barely keeping upright.

Her world spun and she dropped to her knees, and burst into tears, and just sat there, crying...

She cried for a long time.

Until a man came, he approached, asking if she was ok.

She wasn't, as she reared, growling furiously.

He fumbled to switch off his flashlight, but it was too late, she charged, and her now massive claws beat him down in one hit, she savagely tore unrelentingly, until his chest was a bloody, open mess.

Then she wandered away, and began to cry again...


End file.
